


Mad Skills

by anddirtyrain



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 21:46:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4893487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anddirtyrain/pseuds/anddirtyrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Felicity Smoak...You have failed this omelet."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no chill

He takes the bite she offers him, still far too hot for human consumption, and carefully chews and swallows. She waits for his judgment with baited breath, and she’s so adorable-actually looks so excited it almost hurts him a little, what he says next.

“Felicity Smoak…You have failed this omelett.”

Her face falls in an instant, and he feels a bit like an asshole. It would have been worth it, to eat the far too salty -somehow burnt _and_ undercooked at the same time- mess she had cooked, if only to keep that smile on her face. But he didn’t keep things from her, not anymore- even if those things included her lack of culinary skill.   

“Oh.” She puts the pan down on the even-messier breakfast island, looking at the floor. She looks so deflated he can’t resist taking her chin in his hand, and pressing a kiss right in the middle of her forehead that has her scrunching up her nose.

“It’s fine,” he chuckles, moving his hands to her shoulder and squeezing lightly. “You’ll get it next time.”

“ _This_ was ‘next time’, Oliver,” she pouts, and even though it’s been months, he still gets the urge to kiss that pout away immediately. “No. No sir, don’t give me that look.”

“What look?” He laughs. It doesn’t take him by surprise as often now, how playful and easy things can’t be. He just revels in it.

“The ‘I’m gonna kiss you and make you forget why you were upset’ look. Not after that _you have failed_ tease.” She points her finger at him as she says it, scrunching up her eyes in a way he assumes she means to be threatening…but he just catches her hand in his and takes her finger into his mouth, there’s a faint taste of the herbs she must have chopped earlier –and he definitely did not taste on her omelet. “Nope!” She squeaks, and gets to work, taking the pan and her failed attempt straight towards the sink.

He shakes his head and follows suit after her, taking the empty carton of eggs-which he swears was half full yesterday- to the trashcan.

“I don’t get it!” she exclaims out of the blue, and he should have known better than thinking she’d let it go. It was a bit of a sore spot. “I’m useless!”

He stops cleaning at that. “You’re the most amazing person I know, Felicity. And the exact opposite of useless.”

“Let me amend that, then.” Of course she’s going to. So he looks for a couple more eggs and gets to whisking while she goes on.

“I’m useless in the kitchen. Which makes no sense! And I’m not talking about all that ‘women belong in the kitchen’ macho crap –which I am so thankful you don’t subscribe to, by the way, because that would be a deal breaker buddy- But, I am literally a certified genius. With the tests to prove it! I don’t understand why I’m so completely incapable of cooking. It seems simple enough. Children do it!”

He can’t help the smile that takes over his face, and less she thinks he’s making fun of her, he turns around and pour the eggs in a pan, keeping the flames low.

He can picture it so clearly these days. He wants to make a family with her. He can see himself lifting their children onto his shoulders, building them a treehouse, waiting until mom comes home from work. He can imagine how beautiful she would look, her belly swollen with their baby. He doesn’t say any of these things out loud to her, not yet. He keeps these dreams to himself for now, but he knows one day that could be their life.

“Are you even listening Oliver?”

“You’re remarkable,” he tells her. “The most incredible, brave and intelligent woman I have ever had the luck of meeting. I’m honored that you choose to be a part of my life even after everything-“

“Oliver-“

“ _And,_ you don’t need to know how to make an omelet to be anymore perfect.” He turns around, her plate in his hands, and finds her eyes are wet. He didn’t mean to make a grand gesture of his words. It was just the way he felt, then way he’d felt for a long time now and only recently had learned how to put into words and say them out loud, to her, instead of keeping them buried in. But she looked touched and he promised himself that he’d never let a day go by when he didn’t tell her how much she meant to him.

“You’re making me cry over breakfast.” She half-heartedly complains, smiling. “You’re cheesy.”

“This is cheesy,” he tells her, depositing a perfect omelet in front of her. “You may have failed our kitchen,” he whispers in her ear, “but you’ve never failed me, or our city. I think that matters more.”  He presses a quick kiss to her cheek before pulling away, heading to the fridge for a piece of his –suspiciously dwindling- stash of bacon.

“Coffee or juice?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity teases Oliver. Because you know what it looks like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally. No chill.

“Anything to say for yourself mister?”

“Huh?”

She pointedly looks toward his crotch.

“I mean, I thought we were having a serious conversation, but part of you might have thought differently.”

“I…I probably had this already on my way here.” Wrong thing to say.  

“Hmmm?”

“Not that I-” He looks at her pointedly, because he knows exactly what she’s doing. “Its not like-“

“Did you see Mrs. Muriel putting her walker to good use?”

“Fe-li-ci-ty.”

“I mean, she did tell me the other day you had a tight little body.” He chokes on his orange juice a little bit.  “Though I don’t see how anyone could describe you as little. Case in point-“ she offhandendly signals his problem at the moment. “Hey, maybe her glases are failing.”

“Felicity.” He begs, sitting down in front of her and  pushing his hand down on his crotch.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed off. It’s practically _hard_ -coded in your genetic makeup.” She bites her lip, and he’s-he’s blushing, isn’t he? He’s probably blushing. He can’t remember the last time he blushed.

“Please.” He asks her, and seeing  that she’s still fighting off laugther, tries for his Arrow voice. “Are you done being twelve?”

“I’m sorry, but the Arrow voice doesn’t work on me anymore,” she tells him. “I was the big spoon last night, Oliver.”

She’s enjoying herself far too much teasing the crap out of him. He should’ve known all those times he teased her would come back to bite him in the ass.

“Finish your omelet,” he gruffly tells her.

“And maybe afterwards we can jump in the shower together?” she asks him, the picture of innocence. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to fail anything else today…”


End file.
